My Formerly Guilty Pleasure

Last night we had a friend over who brought a selection of horror films ranging from high-quality to highly-laughable. In the ensuing discussion, he referred to something as a "formerly guilty pleasure". It turns out the only New Year's Resolution he ever made was never to feel guilty about liking something again. It's been working for him for several years now, and I thought that sounded like a much better way to be. So today I shall tell the whole of the internet about a formerly guilty pleasure of mine, and I shall do so with pride:

I enjoy cliche-riddled teen and tween films.

Not all of them mind you, but generally if they have to do with the empowering of oddballs, I'm in. Just tonight I watched Sydney White, the Amanda Bynes movie based on the story of Snow White (and the Seven Dorks, in this case). I didn't love it, but I plain old enjoyed watching it. And it doesn't surprise me in the least that screenwriter Chad Gomez Creasy is now a scribe for Pushing Daisies, which I do love.

A few weeks ago I watched the latest Nancy Drew movie, and before that it was Accepted. And yes, both Sydney White and Accepted are set in universities (and strangely both feature Jeremy Howard as an obsessed-yet-endearing student focused on his own special projects), but I think the audience they were aiming for is clear, and it wasn't supposed to be me.

The odd thing is, I didn't care much for these kinds of movies when I was actually in the target age range. Beyond animated Disney films, all I wanted to see as a kid was whatever my older brother and parents were watching. Now I'll happily watch Unaccompanied Minors, The New Kid, Sleepover or anything else of that ilk if it's on TV and I'm looking to just relax. I'm also big on the ones that aren't as cliche-heavy, but are still clearly aimed at younger viewers. I really liked Harriet the Spy a few years back, and again am not surprised the writer went on to do other things I liked even more (Doug Petrie = one of the best writers in the sea of awesome writers that was the staff of Buffy the Vampire Slayer). Currently I'm waiting for the day Kitt Kittredge: An American Girl shows up on afternoon movie rotation, because I have a feeling I'll like that one, too.

So there it is. When I want to just kick back and be entertained, I like to do it with stories that tell me I don't have to do what the other kids are doing to be cool, I just have to be myself. And I like to see those stories told by actors who most people over the age of twenty have never heard of, yet whose career I may well be following with interest (and who often break very big not long after, but that's a story for another post).

I'm not usually a huge Madonna fan...

But I've always enjoyed her music when someone else puts it on. I've also always respected her musicality and her showmanship. Watching her Wembley Stadium finale during Live Earth I was especially taken in by the latter after watching a day's worth of folks who mostly seemed to not understand the performance aspect of "performing live".

So there I was, enjoying Madonna playing guitar and utilizing her many tightly choreographed dancers, when she announced some friends of hers were going to join her for the next song. And when she said who they were, I very nearly wet myself.

I discovered Gogol Bordello after watching "Everything is Illuminated". The lead singer plays a wonderfully memorable character, so I was quick to look him up on IMDB. That led to his band's website and my watching all the videos of them I could find online.

One of greatest things about Madonna is her willingness to let other people on stage with her shine, and that they did. If you missed Madonna's performance in Live Earth, and especially if you've never heard of this raucous gypsy punk band, do be sure to let the magic of Youtube bring you this joy.

La Isla Bonita at Live Earth

Baffled by Terabithia

If you haven't seen The Lion King know that you should, then skip to the next paragraph. If you have -- remember the really sad scene? The one after the wildebeast stampede, where Simba goes down into the valley and he's nudging Mufasa but nothing's happening? When I saw that movie in the theatre, the whole place was perfectly silent during that scene -- Perfectly silent until one small voice asked, "Daddy, why isn't he waking up?".

I'm worried some parents may find themselves in the same awkward position as that father if they take young children to see Bridge to Terabithia. I haven't seen the movie of course, but I have read the book. I won't spoil anyone with specifics, but all the commercials make the story look very Narnia-esque, what with the discovering of a magic land and what-not. Yet that isn't quite what Bridge to Terabithia is really about, and audience members who haven't read the book may find themselves watching a very different movie than they expected.

This has got me wondering who made the decisions about the tone of the commercials. I wouldn't be surprised if after it has it's first weekend there's a slew of more accurate ads. That seems to be a trend these days -- one set of pre-release ads and a whole new, more revealing set that comes after. I'm not sure of the marketing logic behind it, but I guess someone must have figured out that it works somehow.

It all reminds me of my second year studying screenwriting, when I was happily working away on a script that had a major twist at the end of the first act. I worked happily, that is, until the moment I realized there would be no way to advertise the film without giving away the twist. The bored audience would spend the first twenty minutes waiting for my main character to catch on to the very thing that had brought them into the theatre, and my marvelously clever rocking of their world!!! would fall flat.

It's been a long time since I begrudgingly rewrote that script and an even longer time since I read Katherine Patterson's novel that first brought Terebithia into the world. I'm sure the film is excellent and I'm sure it will do wonderfully well at the box office, but still I wonder about what almost seems a trick to get folks into the theatre in the first place. I doubt anyone will be disappointed, but there may be far more awkward post-movie conversations with youngsters than many parents were planning for.

Quick Link
Disney's Official Terebithia site

Questioning Initial Assumptions

P.D. James
E.B. White
A.A. Milne
T.S. Eliot

Not too long ago I had to reconsider what name to write under. I Googled myself and discovered a published romance writer who's already snatched up the moniker I use in daily life. For a brief time I was going to boil myself down to initials, but instead my submissions of late have expanded to include my middle name. It makes for a long line of text, but it feels more like me. A recent trip to the movies however has got me second-guessing the decision.

I already wrote how impressed I was with
Children of Men. After watching the film I looked up the author whose novel the screenplay was based on -- the first name on the list above. I assumed, wrongly, that P.D. James was a man. In fact of the list above, the only author whose sex I have always been correct about was Mr. T.S. Eliot.

The most embarrassing of the mistakes was with E.B. White, who provided a landmark in my development as a reader. After Charlotte's Web I made my first request for any more books written by the same person, crossing over into the realm of having a "favourite author" -- a favourite author who I thought was a woman for the ensuing decade or so.

My understanding though is that in some cases that's what an author who goes by their initials wants -- to obscure their sex and thus allow readers to make whatever assumption they're more comfortable with. Would Harry Potter have been as big a hit with the boys if it was written by Joanne Rowling? Or would Charlotte's Web itself have been so warmly received if it was written by an Elwyn or the so nicknamed Andy White?

I'd like to think the answer is yes. I'd like to think that books and films and everything else succeed on their quality and content rather than the sex -- or any other particular quality -- of the person behind them. I'd like to think that, but I'm not sure I do. There is a great number of people, scholars especially, who treat the author's background as having the utmost importance. I've never gotten behind that kind of scholarship, but then I can't even be sure how my own opinions as a reader were influenced by the kind of assumptions I've made in the past.

So now I find myself reconsidering my decision. So many wonderful writers have, intentionally or no, pushed thier own identity that little bit further back and left the work itself closer to the forefront. I wonder if I wouldn't be better off doing the same.


P. S. Of course, the 54,000 Google hits on that version of my name suggests a whole new problem with that plan. *sigh* It's too bad I so love my incredibly popular surname.

The Academy Makes Me Angry, Again

Back in April I wrote about my long-standing dissappointment that The Shawshank Redemption failed to win a thing in the 67^th Academy Awards, despite being one of the best films ever made. I posted then because the WGA gave Shawshank a fifth-place spot on a '101 Greatest Screenplays' list they released, and I'm always pleased when Shawshank receives the recognition it deserves, even if it's over ten years after the fact.

But now there's a new round of Oscars that have my teeth a-grinding. Sure, the 79^th Academy Awards won't be handed out for almost three weeks, but I already know I have a problem with them. This time, I'm afraid the movie that deserves Best Picture of the Year hasn't even been nominated. Even though the only nominee I have seen is Little Miss Sunshine, it seems impossible to me that the other nominees could all be better than Children of Men. In fact, for as much I loved Little Miss Sunshine, even if it came down to just those two Children of Men deserves the Oscar more.

If you break Children of Men down to its component parts to discuss it, there is no flaw - it has a finely crafted script; it has an exceptional cast; it has engaging and revealing cinematography; it has a fully-formed world of art direction and production design; it makes stirring use of sound and music; it has beautifully directed character moments and intensely believable action sequences. But far more important than the component parts is the whole. Children of Men is moving, it is enlightening, it is dangerous and it is important.

And I think ten years from now, it's the film from this past year that's still going to be talked about.


Related Posts:
The '101 Greatest Screenplays' Redemption
Go See "Little Miss Sunshine". Seriously.

A Bit Of Background

I thought long and hard today about quitting my job. On the one hand, it's everything I always said I wanted in a day job - part-time, a fifteen minute walk from my house, pays enough to make ends meet but leaves me time to write, and most importantly it leaves my brain free to ponder said writing. But that's the problem. It leaves my brain free because it's boring as all hell.

I was feeling grumpy and unhappy and was missing the feeling of actually doing something with my work days, when I suddenly remembered a time that I saw a very happy man engaged in very crappy work.

Shortly after graduating university I spent some time on film sets as an extra (or "background performer" as some people apparently preferred to be called). I had to go to very strange places at very odd hours in my least favourite clothes, and sit around on hard metal folding chairs in rooms that were too hot or too cold or too small or simply cavernous, and snack on cookies, coffee, bread and peanut butter while waiting for someone to ask me to do something. It was usually something like walking from one side of a street to the other. Or pretending to take someone's order at a vegan restaurant. Or, as on one landmark occasion, looking surprised when a stuntman smashed through the table in front of me. The job wasn't great, but it was ridiculously easy because, sadly, the expectations placed on us were very, very low.

But far worse off than any Background Performer in the history of a film, is the person charged with herding the Background Performers. One unlucky Assistant Director faced a day of complaints (about the chairs, the room, the temperature, the food, the waiting) from a group of people which inevitably contained at least one person who didn't understand that "quiet on the set" didn't mean "of course you can keep talking - just whisper!" and a select few who thought their job was to sign in, sneak out to run errands, and return in time to sign out, so the poor A.D. would always be a few bodies short. Throw in the occasional director who assumed background performers were mind readers and/or trained dogs, or a wardrobe person who hadn't kept track of what they'd given to whom, and suddenly the A.D. was getting flack from every which way.

Most of the A.D.s I encountered still managed to be personable, although I held nothing against the ones who had broken down to cranky. Then came my day on the set of Sounder. It was my first period piece, so having an actual costume was fun. But still my job for the day was to walk across a road (carrying a package! Huzzah!) so things were shaping up to be pretty hum-drum as we milled about in the large holding room.

Suddenly our A.D. climbed up on a chair and, in so doing, commanded attention (usually they just yelled). He introduced himself (also surprisingly rare) then did something I'd never seen done before and never saw again - he told the background performers what was happening. First he summarized the film's plot and told us who was playing who. Then he told us where the day's scene fit in the grand scheme of the story. He had done all of this in the light-hearted tone of a guy telling a story at a party. Finally, referring to the "sides" that tend to float around on set and include all the script pages that will be used that day, this jovial A.D. proceeded to read the scenes to us, complete with distinct character voices.

Really, it was a small thing. But it set the tone for the day and, four years later, is one of my most distinct memories from doing background work. I'm sure that A.D. didn't want to make a career of herding extras, and I certainly hope he's gone on to do whatever it was that day was supposed to be a stepping-stone towards.

So, what was my hokey conclusion? I've decided I can't quit my day job yet because my writing career is still in a wide-shot, and I need to fill in the space with a bit of mundane business. The focus will come eventually, but in the meantime I'll keep my mind on the big picture, and try to have some fun while I do.

Re-Cut Movie Trailer Gold

A little year-end sillyness:

If you haven't seen these yet, be sure to waste some time watching Rolling Stone's picks for Best Re-Cut Movie Trailers of 2006.

Rolling Stone: Re-Cut Movie Trailers

Now that's what the internet is all about.

Can you tie-dye the canvas for a covered wagon?

Last night I dedicated 164 of my rare, non-working minutes to expanding my knowledge of the cultural landmarks our society has been built on. That's right - I watched "Paint Your Wagon", the western musical extravaganza that features Lee Marvin and Clint Eastwood singing their tough-guy hearts out.

I'd heard tell of this movie, mostly as the butt of jokes about box-office flops and cinematic bad ideas. It was, to say the least, very strange, but also strangely entertaining (Believe it or not, Clint's a damn fine singer). What I'm surprised I've never heard mentioned before was that it was released in 1969 and, based on the theatrical trailer included on the DVD, its target-market was hippies!

The trailer voice over invites you to:

"Come along with Lee Marvin, Clint Eastwood and Jean Seberg as they bring the free-living, free-loving, California gold rush days to life"

And to enjoy this story about:

"...a lusty group of people who one day looked civilization in the eye... and spit!"

Alas, I am well past my days in Film Historiography lectures, but if anyone out there is looking for a topic to surprise your prof with, consider jumping aboard this wagon train to wackiness.

The Wrong Kind of Geek

Last night I made a last-minute trek to the brand spankin' new Toronto After Dark Film Festival - a "premiere showcase of international sci-fi, horror & fantasy cinema". When I arrived at the Bloor Cinema there were lines all over the place as pass holders and online ticket buyers and rush ticket hopefuls all tried to sort themselves into the right place. These were fans, and I felt like maybe I wasn't going to live up to the standard as I hunted down the Guest List table to sign in.

Inside I was found by a horror-fan buddy who had a pretty good looking gash on his neck (the "wound" was even more entertaining when we later ended up at a surprise birthday party). I didn't see other costuming, but if you hadn't known what kind of film festival this was beforehand, the t-shirts were a dead giveaway.

I'm not actually a big horror fan, unless it turns out to be a horror-comedy (whether or not it was intended to be funny is irrelevant). But the opening night film was more sci-fi, an area in which I'm hardly hard-core but certainly have my loves. Special is about how a comic-book fan/parking enforcement officer has his life changed by participating in a drug study. Michael Rappaport stars as Les, this man whose adverse reaction to the medication has him believing he is an unstoppable super hero. It's a good movie with great performances; a funny and sad look at the desperation that lays under so many lives.

The thing is, the movie was obviously made by people who understand the superhero genre of comics, with lots of parallel moments to the classic story arcs. While I caught all of those references (I think), the reference that was like a 2x4 smash in the face for me was the blue feather used in the medical testing project's logo. When that came onscreen I wanted to jump out of my seat - "Oo, oo! Richard Bach's Illusions, right? That's where that's from!"

As much I loved the throws to classic comics and sci-fi plots, a possible connection to a late seventies novel from the guy who gave the world Jonathan Livingston Seagull was what got me giddy. I don't even know if that's really what they were thinking of, even though there was a Q&A (I always feel like you should only ask a question if there's a chance someone else in the audience might care.)

I was also pretty giddy over the short film that preceded the feature. It was a Canadian production called "The Grandfather Paradox" about a physics lecture with more practical applications than the prof was hoping for. A great little movie, if you get the chance to see it anywhere.

So at the end of the night I had a great time and was certainly glad I went, but couldn't help but feel like I wasn't quite the target geek for the festival.

Still, I never felt out of place, because if there's one thing about geeks, it's that they understand getting excited about things that leave other people staring blankly.




Quick Links:
- Toronto After Dark Film Festival (continues until October 24th)
- "Special" Official Website
- "The Grandfather Paradox" on Redhead Productions

Frank Cottrell Boyce and "Reckless Generosity"

Today I decided it was finally time to turn off the screens for awhile and read a book. So naturally I cracked open "Millions", the prose version of a film I've already seen. About halfway through I was back on the internet, not because I wasn't enjoying the read, but because I wanted to know if Frank Cottrell Boyce wrote the book before or after he'd sold the screenplay. I didn't find the answer, which would seem to make for a pretty pointless blog entry, but I did find a quote by and about Mr. Boyce that struck me as all kinds of awesome:

"Boyce thinks the importance of money in his films is not rooted in Marxism but "from working in the film industry where money is like an actual physical force acting on you all the time - like gravity or something." He describes his life philosophy as "Reckless Generosity," a fusion of Tony Wilson and St. Francis of Assisi." - Jon C. Hopwood, Boyce's IMDB bio writer (Tony Wilson being the real-life focus of "24-Hour Party People", another Boyce screenplay.)

Perhaps the "reckless" part is not ideal, but at the same time I think that's part of the charm. "Random Acts of Kindness" sound good and all, but you know how getting hammered in university was way more fun if you were the one who had to get up the next morning for an exam? Charity just sounds more fun if it was a damned fool thing for you to do.

And on that note, I'm off to e-donate some of my rent money to a friend who's running in a marathon to support The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society! Huzzah!

(In a bit of synchronicity, as I was writing this entry Former US President Bill Clinton came on The Daily Show talking about the power of individuals to support causes. I am TOTALLY in tune with ex-world leaders!)

Go See "Little Miss Sunshine". Seriously.

Last night Steve and I saw Little Miss Sunshine both because of the many positive reviews it's been getting and -- much more importantly -- because of the stupid grins we'd both had after seeing the trailer.

As expected, the film did make me laugh, and it also made me cry, which was far less expected. What has really caught me by surprise though is how genuinely happy the film made me. Steve too, I think.

Usually these things are enjoyable while you're watching them and are maybe good for a later laugh when you toss around quotes or say things like "Remember when so-and-so did such-and-such?" But after Little Miss Sunshine it went beyond reminding each of other of the jokes (which we still did do, excessively). There was also a lasting satisfaction, and for me at least, a general feeling that the world is a little better than I thought it was before the lights went down.

And you can't ask any more from a movie than that.

The Many Deaths and Resurrections of Emilio Estevez

After we flipped past the opening credits of Young Guns on TV yesterday, Steve wondered aloud what had become of Emilio Estevez. This reminded me of the time some years ago when a friend and I killed off Mr. Estevez, all as part of a sociology experiment gone too far.

We were in a univeristy residence room (where so many bizarre ideas are born) and we began discussing the nature of gossip. We decided to monitor the lifespan and migrations of a common rumour by creating our own and seeing how long it took to get back to us.

After much discussion we chose to fake the death of Emilio Estevez, mainly because he was well-liked but had been off the map for a few years. We devised a mildly interesting but plausible demise and set our plan in motion that night in the bar - my friend announcing to a table full of drunken students that he'd heard said news on the radio and I confirming independently that I'd caught the same snippet on TV. The rule was neither one of us would mention it again and then we'd see what happened.

We were impressed by the results, hearing it many times that night and over the next few weeks. Soon we made a point of correcting anyone we heard espousing this totally fabricated bit of "No, seriously, it's true".

We talked to everyone we knew and a few weeks later we were sure the rumour of Emilio's passing was as dead as he had supposedly been. About five months later, my friend was at a party at another university a three hour drive away. Somehow, Mr. Estevez came up and immediately the air was filled with cries of "Did you hear, he died, eh?" and "Yeah, yeah, he drowned in his pool or something, right?"

I hope that by now everyone in Southern Ontario who heard of the end of Emilio Estevez back in the late nineties has figured out that the rumour wasn't true. If they haven't though, they should figure it out soon. Steve's query led me to the IMDB, which reveals that Mr. Estevez is in post production on Bobby, a film he has written and directed about the assassination of Robert F. Kennedy.

It's not the first movie he's directed, but with a cast that includes Anthony Hopkins, Demi Moore and Elijah Wood I don't think this one will slip past the mainstream unnoticed.

Congratulations, Mr. Estevez. I've always been rooting for you, and in more than just a "wouldn't it suck if he were dead" kind of way.

"Grizzly Man" Could Have Used a Better Handler

Werner Herzog fills me with The Rage.

I finally saw his film "Grizzly Man", which was supposed to be a fantastic documentary. It turns out it was a fantastic documentary subject that was nearly ruined by the way it was handled. "Grizzly Man" is about the late Tim Treadwell, a troubled, would-be actor who went out to live among the grizzly bears in Alaska for thirteen summers. He started taking a video camera with him and the resulting footage Herzog had access to was absolutely engrossing, both for the wildlife it featured and for the oddity of the man doing the filming. In between Treadwell's footage though Herzog has placed awkward and clearly 'directed' interviews with people who are variously biased, bizarre, or have no real idea what they're talking about. Worse is Herzog's pompous voice-over and carefully constructed "scenes" that seek to push Treadwell out of the picture and place Herzog himself as a main player.

By far the most annoying was the ending. The "Grizzly Man" narrative is hung on Treadwell's death, which did eventually come in the form of a bear attack that saw both he and his girlfriend devoured. For the first hour everything everyone says implies this happened because one of the bears Treadwell believed he had established a relationship with finally, inevitably turned on him. When Herzog gets around to the facts however, it turns out Treadwell foolishly went back to his camp later in the year than he ever had before and thus encountered the hungry bears from the interior who were making a last-ditch effort to fatten themselves before hibernation. The bear that killed Treadwell was not one of "his" bears - it was a stranger to him and he to it. But Herzog just threw that fact out there and kept talking like it was irrelevant, when it runs totally contrary to the "he got what was coming to him" vibe of many interviews in the film.

I'm not saying Treadwell's bears thought of him as their friend, as he so perilously believed. What I am saying is that while it's still possible one of those bears someday would have turned on him, the fact is they didn't. To build your whole narrative on a potential outcome as if it was already the case is sloppy, shoddy storytelling.

I wish they'd just put out a DVD with Treadwell's footage and some excerpts from his diary. Tim Treadwell was his own story - we hardly needed Herzog telling us what he thought of the man or of the beasts that man chose to live and die with.

'Festen' on Broadway?

When I saw 'Festen' many moons ago, I was enthralled not only by the story, but also by how powerful a Dogme 95 film could be. A few weeks ago I told a friend he should see the movie and when I said the title he said, "You mean that Broadway show?", which was news to me.

I'm sure the minimal nature of the film is what allowed it to be transferred easily to the stage. What I'm not sure about is how well the intimacy can be maintained in the 1000plus-seat Music Box Theatre. Being visually jerked back and forth as Michael and Mette screamed in their room, or lingering on the grinning faces singing to Gbatokai - these were the things that I thought made the film really work. Without them, I'm not sure if it will seem as believable or if many of the characters will retain their redeemability, Michael especially.

I won't get to see the stage version unless it comes to Toronto, but if anyone has seen it on Broadway or in London please feel free to leave a comment on how well you think the change of medium worked.

Quick Links:
FestenOnBroadway.com
The Official Dogme 95 Website

Philosophy Lives in 'The United States of Leland'

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

The Tom Hanks Brand of Entertainment

I once applied to work for a product placement company, as the notion of getting paid to read production-ready scripts quickly outweighed any problems I may have had with the nature of the job. I wasn’t hired, but recently I’ve been trying to decide how I feel about product placement when my own bank account isn’t a factor.

This began after I received notice through the Canadian Association for Cultural Studies listserv that a new website had launched called Brandhype.org. It was put together by a team headed by Matthew Soar, an Assistant Professor of Communication Studies at Concordia University. They’re building a searchable online database of product placement in movies and have book excerpts, a video and a discussion board as well. When I was touring around it initially I thought one of the most interesting things was a discussion on how the plot of ‘Castaway’ was hung on product placement. I haven’t seen ‘Castaway’, so that conversation got me thinking.

Then, a few days ago, there was news that Tom Hanks will be starring in a film called ‘How Starbucks Saved My Life’. This time, it’s right there in the title. So I went back to Brandhype to find that discussion and instead realized another Tom Hanks film, ‘You’ve Got Mail’, was covered in the book excerpt from Kembrew McLeod’s Freedom of Expression: Overzealous Copyright Bozos and Other Enemies of Creativity. It would seem that Mr. Hanks is on the forefront of moving products from the easily visible background to the unavoidable thru line.

The strange thing is, even after reading much of Soar’s website and other sources, I’m not upset by any of this. In fact, while I’m not planning on seeing ‘Starbucks Saves’, I think it’s better to be upfront about the inclusion of products. I’d rather see a film blatantly set in a Starbucks – perhaps even giving an inside look into what it would really be like to work at a Starbucks – than to have characters in some other movie drinking their coffees with the cup logo turned conspicuously outward.

There’s a Canadian play by Josh MacDonald called ‘Halo’ in which an image of Jesus appears on the side of a Tim Horton’s coffee shop. I’ve never seen it performed but it’s a fantastic read, and I didn’t have any problem with Tim Horton’s sitting in as a sort of character. Maybe that’s because I’m confident the corporation didn’t pay for that privilege, but I think mostly it’s because it was natural and fitting and didn’t feel like an ad.

I’m not suggesting a Hollywood film starring Tom Hanks, featuring Starbucks, and based on a book by a non-fiction ‘how to succeed’ writer will be anything like the art of an excellent play, nor do I expect it will be anywhere near as good. But I can’t find too much fault with the existence of real companies in fiction when everyone is upfront about it. Much the same way I don’t have a problem with humble web writers signing up for things like, oh, say, Google Adsense.

P.S. I just reread my last paragraph and should clarify - I'm not expecting the movie to be a great work, but I also recognize it may well be. I like a lot of Tom Hanks movies, and a lot of "Hollywood" movies. So, we shall see what we shall see, whenever they actually make the thing.

Quick Links:
Brandhype.org
‘How Starbucks Saved My Life’ – Reuters Article
Josh MacDonald’s ‘Halo’ on TalonBooks.com

Get In-Depth:
Canadian Association for Cultural Studies

The '101 Greatest Screenplays' Redemption

When ‘All-Time Greatest’ film lists are released, I usually ignore the commentary that floods my listserv-catching inbox and refrain from commenting myself. While on the one hand it’s wonderful to spark any discussion of The Greats, I find a lot of film aficionados are on an “intellectual hairtrigger”¹ -- so anticipating a need to defend their own opinion that they become overly aggressive the second anyone disagrees. I like to fancy myself a little more laidback than that kind of ‘discussion’ calls for, and have found that there is only one bit of cinematic history that can get me riled up to that level. But since I also like to fancy myself a screenwriter, it was inevitable that yesterday’s ‘101 Greatest Screenplays’ from the WGA would be the list that touched on that affair.

Around the time of the 67^th Annual Academy Awards, there was buzz of a showdown between the feel-good ‘Forrest Gump’ and the groundbreaking ‘Pulp Fiction’. Most of my friends were vehemently in favour of ‘Pulp Fiction’ while I was quietly and calmly a ‘Forrest Gump’ fan. I had enjoyed ‘Pulp Fiction’ of course, but it had only entertained me, whereas ‘Forrest Gump’ had both entertained me and moved me. So when the awards came and ‘Gump’ took Best Picture I was outside the outrage of my sixteen year old compatriots. As for screenplays, there was no contest as ‘Pulp Fiction’ won for Best Original and ‘Gump’ took Best Adapted – which at the time seemed fair enough.

It was months later that my parents rented ‘The Shawshank Redemption’ and I watched it by myself one weekend afternoon. When it was over I wandered, stunned, through the park with my dog, got home, rewound the movie and watched it again. Since then I’ve always held that ‘Shawshank’ is by the far the better movie of the three and should have taken both ‘Best Picture’ and ‘Best Adapted Screenplay’ over ‘Forrest Gump’.

In one way yesterday’s list provides a bit of satisfaction. ‘The Shawshank Redemption’ (Screenplay by Frank Darabont. Based on the short story "Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption" by Stephen King) is number twenty-two, well ahead of the eighty-ninth position held by ‘Forrest Gump’ (Screenplay by Eric Roth. Based on the novel by Winston Groom). But now there’s something new for me to disagree with – ‘Pulp Fiction’ has beat out ‘Shawshank’ by six spots, placed in the top twenty at number sixteen. It’s been a long time since I saw ‘Pulp Fiction’, but I just can’t believe it’s that much better, if it’s better at all.

To my mind, Frank Darabont’s script went well-beyond flawless to phenomenal. Obviously every character is developed and every arc is complete. It’s funny, it’s heartbreaking, it’s tragic and it’s hopeful – often all in the same scene. Voice over can go horribly wrong, but when Red (Morgan Freeman) speaks to us, it’s always an enhancement of the story, not a substitute for storytelling. Darabont even used foreshadowing seamlessly, ranging from the audience-satisfying lines that everyone gets ("Salvation lies within”) to the bits so quick and seemingly careless most people will only catch them on multiple viewings, if ever (“That’s just a shitty pipe dream”).

Of course Tarantino and Avery put together a fantastic screenplay as well, but I always suspect that the charm of ‘Pulp Fiction’ hinges more on its slick style than its story. But the most important distinction for me is the same one that once gave ‘Gump’ the lead in my teenage mind – no matter how engaging the banter is between Jules and Vincent, no matter how complex the timeline jumps, and no matter how much ‘Pulp Fiction’ changed the direction of so many action/gangster/crime films to come, it didn’t leave me feeling anything more than a fleeting rush of cool, whereas for me the steady serenity of Andy Dufresne still hangs in the air.


¹ Thanks to Steve for the apt phrase

Quick Links:
The WGA’s 101 Greatest Screenplays


Upcoming Posts: Tom Hanks’ career as a product placer; a Dogme 95 film that’s spawned a Broadway show.


Updated April 9th to add:
I've just dicovered that back in February of 2004 the American Screenwriters Association released a list of "The 100 Best Feature Film Screenplays" and on that list 'The Shawshank Redemption' came in at number five. Number five. The only things listed above it were 'To Kill a Mockingbird', 'Casablanca', 'Gone With the Wind' and 'The Wizard of Oz'. Illustrious company to be sure, and a place well earned. 'Pulp Fiction' didn't make that list at all.
View the ASA list here.

Iceland Night in My Canadian Home

Expanding on an Iceland obsession helped along by ‘LazyTown’, Peter and Steve and I just watched ‘101 Reykjavik’ and ‘Noi Albinoi’ back to back. This was our substitute for actually visiting Iceland anytime soon, although that’s still on the big To-Do list.

These movies were strangely similar, both about young-ish men who weren’t growing well into responsibility or, well, much of anything. In '101' a thirty-year old partier still lives at home with the mother it turns out he doesn't know as much about as he thought. In 'Noi' an independently minded high school student doesn't fit in and really doesn't seem to mind until a girl comes to town who inspires him to look for more from life.

The first movie is heavy on sex and poetic reflections on life and death, the latter is visually gritty and heavy on the stretches of silence. Both were funny and engaging and very cool for different but similar reasons.

But as substitutes for an actual trip, I'm not sure these movies were the best choice. Here's what we learned about Iceland:

- Fathers there are alcoholic deadbeats or just plain mean
- Cars skid. A lot.
- They like their shotguns

None of which jives with LazyTown, so apparently we'll need to do more research.

Of course, we also learned that there's a city you can only get to using an underwater tunnel. So the To-Do list has become more detailed.



Related posts:

LazyTown

Thank Goodness for Meddling Producers – The Original Ending for ‘Dodgeball’

Between Ben Stiller, Vince Vaughn, piratic Alan Tudyk and a sports movie about a sport I’ve actually played, it was a pretty safe bet I was going to see ‘Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story’ in a theatre. I did, it was great fun, and I came away with fond memories. At the time, screenwriting listservs were filled with articles about writer/director Rawson Marshall Thurber as a filmmaking underdog who was making it big. I’d seen his hilarious commercial ‘Terry Tate, Office Linebacker’ and after popcorn-munching my way through his first feature serving I was convinced Thurber could do no wrong. Now I’m a little less sure.

Last week I saw ‘Dodgeball’ again, this time on DVD. It was still hilarious and even some of the cut scenes were more entertaining than scenes that get left in many lesser comedies. But in the DVD extras was an alternate ending that was so surprising and confusing I watched it again with the commentary on, hoping for an explanation. Enter the voice of Thurber, stating that this was the original ending – an ending he believed in so strongly he walked off the project temporarily in a refusal to replace it. Stories of directors having to bow to test audiences and producers usually frustrate me (as do stories of writers having to bow to test audiences, producers, directors, pompous actors…) but in this case I have no idea what Thurber was thinking. The original ending wasn’t an artistic one, it simply wasn’t an ending at all.

***MINOR SPOILERS BELOW****

In this alternate ending, the Average Joe’s are knocked out when a throw by White (Stiller) takes out a distracted Peter (Vaughn). Then that’s it. Peter looks sad, White looks happy, credits role. If Thurber wanted to say this is how underdog stories really end, that’s one thing. I can’t help but wonder if that isn’t the whole reason he set about writing a sports movie – to finally make one where the unskilled but lovable ‘losers’ actually lose. His story wasn’t about a dodgeball final though, it was about the lives of the characters playing dodgeball. In the ending that was eventually put on the movie, the credits don’t roll after Peter’s winning throw. There’s the standard wrap-up of boy gets girl, bully gets what’s coming to him, and disheartened pirate friend gets affirmation in the form of a treasure chest¹. This, I think, is where Thurber’s original ending stumbled. Audience wouldn’t have needed to see Average Joe’s win if they’d seen where they were going next.

***END OF SPOLERS***

It’s a shame that the creative and comic geniuses who came together to make ‘Dodgeball’ didn’t find a happy medium in which an unhappy ending could still leave an audience satisfied. But between the two options that were filmed, the one that I saw on the big screen was by far the better choice. I’m still looking forward to more from Thurber, but I’ve removed him from the pedestal I had him on, which is probably more comfortable for everyone.



¹ I remember reading that they had to go back and film more material for ’28 Days’, another movie in which test audiences were unsatisfied with the ending, that time specifically related to Alan Tudyk’s character. The lesson here is if you’re going to put that man in a movie, you should be prepared to give him a good ending, or face an unhappy audience (*cough* Joss Whedon *cough*).

'Childstar'

I was totally engaged watching this, but at the same time it’s unsettling to see a film about the ill-effects movie-making can have on a child actor when said film naturally stars an actual child actor. Luckily the behind-the-scenes footage on the DVD makes it clear that Mark Rendall lives with a great deal more balance than his character. In fact, it seems director/co-writer Don McKellar was the one who really suffered during the shoot, which is fitting as the final product was as much about the ridiculous lives of all people who make movies as it was about the under-eighteen set.

I probably enjoyed this film more because I’ve been on film sets as a background performer (read: “extra”) and a volunteer production assistant. I’d suggest anyone who’s interested in how films are made get a job as an extra for a little while. It’s the only place you can see so many people panicking about an impending deadline (beautiful sunsets are renamed “We’re losing the light!!!) while so many other people are leisurely doing absolutely nothing (there’s a reason for the term “extra”).

Beyond enjoying the jabs at the industry, I enjoyed watching an industry friend of mine get taken hostage during Taylor’s film. Heck, just watching him fly a plane was a fun, even if it was only for a few seconds. But when you know actors who are still trying to break big, that’s what the ‘slow’ button is for.

Quick Links:
‘Childstar’ on IMDB

Get In-Depth:
First Weekend Club Discussion Board Q & A with Don McKellar